Blind Hearts
by serenelystrange
Summary: So what happens when you combine super AU Leverage with my love of bad Lifetime and Hallmark-esque tv movies? This happens. - In which Eliot isn't a hitter, but instead, a blind middle school teacher who's world gets turned upside down..E/Aimee, P/H, P/E


A/N – Italicized bits are memories/flashbacks. Also, this is majorly AU. I'm twisting and turning things to my liking. If that bothers you, there are plenty of awesome non AU stories by other people, here and on LJ, :) Also.. beware: there is angst. And schmoop. And cheesiness. And everything else you'd expect from a Lifetime/Hallmark Channel movie. Also.. Parker's kind of a creeper. It's best to just accept it. xD

.

.

"Mr. Spencer?"

Eliot turns his head toward the sound, waiting. The pause before the girl speaks again clues him in that the student is Nellie, his brightest, and quietest, pupil.

"Yes, Nellie?"

The girl speaks so quietly, he strains to hear her, but she must notice he's struggling because the next moment her voice is louder.

"Why did we ever let slavery exist?"

The students begin whispering around her, some snickering what Eliot imagines are unkind and unjustified words towards the young girl. He slaps his palm loudly on the desk and the room falls silent.

"That's a very good question, Nellie," Eliot replies, smiling at the girl before turning his attention to the rest of the class.

"I think you should all think about that question tonight, and come back tomorrow with some ideas. Don't worry, you don't have to write anything down. Just brainstorm."

The class, predictably, groans in unison, but they're drowned out by the school bell, signaling the end of the day.

"See y'all tomorrow!" Eliot calls after the stampeding group running out the door.

Some of the kids chuckle, but the rest just roll their eyes.

It's the same joke every day.

.

.

"_Hang on, baby!" Eliot roars over the revving of the engines. _

_Aimee just squeals and tightens her arms around her crazy boyfriend as the motorcycle takes off down the long dark road. _

_The next instant, they're flying, and Aimee wishes she could feel the wind in her hair, but her helmet prevents it. Instead, she leans down and presses her cheek into Eliot's throat, grinning. His helmet is unbuckled, and she wonders idly how it hasn't flown off, as fast as they're going. She leans back again and laughs, a sound of pure joy and freedom. _

_She's still laughing when the world turns upside down, then fades to black. _

_When she wakes up, she knows she's broken an arm, at least, but it seems to be the extent of her injuries. She looks around, the others haven't noticed they're missing yet. _

_They. _

_Eliot. _

"_El?" she calls out, cringing at the whimper of pain in her voice. _

"_Eliot? Where are you, baby?" _

_She gets no response, but her peripheral vision catches a glimpse of something blue and shiny, and she chokes back a sob. _

_Eliot's helmet, split in half, lays a few feet away. _

_And then she sees him. He's sprawled out, looking like a lump of rags. Cringing some more, Aimee crawls as best she can to him, trying to keep her broken arm still. She kneels before him, checking his pulse with shaky fingers. He's alive; she nearly breaks down in relief for that simple fact. _

"_Eliot? Elly? Wake up, baby, wake up!" she's crying again because he doesn't stir. _

"_Just hang on, baby, I'm gonna get help," she says, brushing back his wayward hair. _

_She gasps when he fingers come back sticky and warm. The headlights that fill the space, as their friends finally find them, only highlight the blood on her hand. She looks down and watches blood seep into the earth beneath Eliot's head. _

_Then Billy's grabbing her, and Suzanne is checking her for injuries. They tell her that Ashley's already gone for help, but she doesn't hear them. She's only focused on Eliot, willing him to wake up._

_._

_._

"I know you're there," Eliot says, with more calm than he actually feels.

All he wanted to do was exercise in peace, in his own home, like he has every day since she left him.

But whoever is there doesn't respond, not that he's surprised. She never does. Eliot figures it's a girl, by the light weight of her step he can barely hear and the faint scent of jasmine he detects. She's shown up several times now, but he can never catch her. She never seems to do anything except watch him, and he's still not sure how she even gets in, but she's always long gone by the time he tries to approach her.

"What do you want from me?" he asks, sounding tired, "I don't have anything worth stealing."

To his surprise, the intruder moves towards him, until she's standing before him. He reaches out automatically, but she doesn't back down. When he traces his fingers along her face, she merely leans into the touch, letting him explore.

Definitely a girl, an inch or so shorter than him and probably a few years younger. Her lips are cold.

"What do you want from me?" he asks again.

"Nothing," she says. Her voice surprises him, it's light and almost sweet, nothing like what he imagined of a home intruder.

"I just figured you should see me, too," she says. And in some bizarre logic, Eliot actually understands.

"Do I know you?" Eliot asks, trying to match the voice to any description in his mind.

Silence follows for a moment and Eliot laughs.

"Did you just shake your head?"

"Oh," she says, "Forgot. No, you don't know me."

Eliot is confused, to say the least.

"Then why are you here?"

He imagines she's shrugging.

"It's as good a place as any," she says, finally.

"That doesn't answer anything," Eliot says, wishing he could just glare at the girl. Wishing he could see her face.

"I have to go," she says, suddenly.

Eliot stops himself from trying to stop her. The whole thing is insane, he shouldn't be making friends with strangers who break into his house.

"I'll come back," she says, and it sounds more like a promise than a threat.

Eliot knows the moment she's gone, and he finally hears the telltale click of the basement window she must come through.

He stands there long after she's gone, wondering what the hell had just happened.

.

.START HERE

"Where you been, mama?"

Parker doesn't flinch, but it's a near thing. She looks at her boyfriend, expecting accusation or anger, but all she gets is curiosity.

"Just around," she says, shrugging.

"Cool," he says, moving to loop an arm around her and hug her close.

Parker can't help but smile and turn into the warmth. Hardison has always been able to make her smile.

The sudden urge to drown out everything but this feeling overcomes her and she sneaks a hand beneath Hardison's t-shirt.

"Oh, I see what you're getting at here," Hardison teases, "Just using me for my body."

He waggles his eyebrows at her suggestively and it makes her burst into laughter, but she pulls him towards their bedroom anyway.

Only later, when she's all wrapped up in Hardison's arms, does her mind finally rest, all thoughts of the blind teacher with inexplicably blue eyes pushed aside.

.

.

"Eliot? You home?"

Aimee's voice jars Eliot out his daydreaming state. Then he remembers that it's Sunday afternoon, and Aimee always comes by after church with some sort of food in hand.

"I'm here," he greets her as he makes his way into the kitchen.

"Old Mrs. Roberts insisted I bring you some of her chicken casserole. It doesn't smell half bad, actually. Much better than the tuna incident."

Eliot can hear the smile in her voice and can't help but smile back. He imagines Aimee is standing behind a chair, gripping it with both hands in that way she always has. He steps closer and smirks when his fingers close over hers, right where he thought they'd be.

"How's your husband, Aimee?" he asks, in a rough voice that betrays any innocent he pretends to have.

"Eliot," she says, with a clear warning in her voice.

Eliot sighs, but pulls his hands away.

"You need to stop coming here," he says, instead, "Every week, you're here. You should be with your current husband, not the one you walked out on."

He's expecting the slap to his face, but it still stings.

"That's real fair," he growls, "Slap the blind man."

"El," Aimee says, softly, and he can tell she's crying, "I'm sorry. You're right, I should stop coming here. We need to move on."

The fight goes out of him and Eliot's pulling her close before he can think, wrapping her in a tight hug. She melts into him, like she always has, and it's so familiar that it makes his chest ache.

"I'll stop coming," she promises through the tears, "I'll leave you alone, I swear."

Eliot doesn't want to say what he says next, but he's learning quickly that his mouth listens to his brain about as well as it ever did. Especially when Aimee is involved.

"Don't," he says, and it's nearly a plea, "please, don't."

Her arms tighten around him in response, and he sighs. What a beautiful disaster they've found themselves in.

.

.

_Aimee's first thought when she sees Eliot in the hospital bed is how small he looks there, hooked up to tubes and washed out amidst the stark whiteness of the sheets. But he's breathing, mostly on his own, and he's been waking up more and more frequently. It gives her hope. _

"_Aimee?" his voice is gravelly and raw but it makes her grin in relief. _

_She moves to sit beside him on the bed, taking one of his hands in hers. _

"_I'm here, baby," she says, bringing his fingers up to her mouth to kiss. _

"_I.. I can't tell," Eliot says, voice cracking, "Am I looking at you?"_

_The question nearly breaks her heart. _

"_Right at me, baby," she replies, squeezing his hand. _

"_They said I'll probably never see again," he says, in the quietest voice she's ever heard him use. _

"_Your momma told me," Aimee replies. _

"_We're supposed to graduate next week!" Eliot says, in an outburst of anger, "But I'll be stuck here with broken bones and no vision! And they won't let me in the Army like this. Everything's all fucked up now. Everything we planned."_

"_Hey," Aimee's tone is authoritative, "You listen to me. You will graduate, whether you're at the ceremony or not. And if you're not, I won't be either. I don't care if the Army won't take you, I don't care if you never leave this town, I don't care if you work at the mini-mart for the rest of your life. You're stuck with me, you hear? It ain't gonna be easy, but you've got your momma and daddy and me, and we're not letting you give up. You hear me?"_

_Eliot mumbles something unintelligible. _

"_What was that?" Aimee asks, but she's already smiling. _

"_I hear ya," Eliot says, just barely louder. _

"_Good," she replies, "Now scooch as much as you can, this broken arm's a bitch, but I wanna lay with you for a while." _

_Eliot moves as best he can and she crawls into the space beside him, curling up as much as both their injuries will allow. _

_They rest in silence for a while and Aimee is almost asleep when Eliot speaks again. _

"_We should get married."_

_She gasps in surprise. They've never really talked about marriage before. They figured they'd get around to it one day. She never imagined it'd be when they're both barely eighteen. _

"_Do you love me?" she asks. _

"_You know I do," Eliot says, and she can practically feel him rolling his eyes. _

"_Then we'll get married," Aimee says, smiling, "Once you can stand again, of course." _

_Eliot snorts, "Man, I was hoping to go the isle in a wheelchair!" _

_Aimee just laughs and presses a kiss to his cheek. _

"_No chance in hell, baby. I love you, now go to sleep." _

_Eliot's already out like a light, but the smile on his face remains. _

_._

_._

Eliot pinches the bridge of his nose, warding off the impending headache. Nate Ford, head of the Math department, is going on and on about some baseball team or another and Eliot's bored near to tears. Finally, he snaps and can't take it anymore.

"Nate, man, I really don't care about baseball."

"Huh?" Nate says, seeming genuinely confused about how anyone could not like baseball.

Eliot shrugs. "I've just never been into it. Plus, I don't like any sport where you can't score on defense."

"Hmm," Nate says, and Eliot recognizes it as his 'pausing for consideration' hum.

So he waits.

"Fair enough," Nate says, blessedly deciding the conversation is over. "Have a good one, Spencer. See you tomorrow."

"Later, man," Eliot says, nodding at the quick hand to his shoulder, "Tell Maggie and Sam I said hey."

He gets another clap on the shoulder, and then Nate's gone, leaving Eliot alone in the deserted teacher's room.

He's barely made it to the door when his stick runs into something. Or someone, if the startled squeak says anything.

"Sorry," Eliot says, automatically, "Blind guy crossing."

He grins at the unknown person, waiting for them to identify themselves.

"Mr. Spencer?"

"Yes, Danny?" Eliot replies, having recognized the voice as that of the 7th grader he'd taught last year.

"Miss Deveraux sent me to fetch you. She needs to see you."

Eliot's confusion must show on his face because the boy clarifies his statement.

"I work in the Principal's office after school, and Miss Deveraux was talking to some lady so she sent me to come get you. She was pretty. The lady, not Miss Deveraux. Well, she's pretty too, but she scares the hell, I mean, heck, out of me."

Eliot's mind flashes back to that night a few years ago, after a particularly drunken teacher's Christmas party. How he ended up flat on his back on the plush rug of Sophie's office, he can't remember. But what came next? That, he has pleasant memories of.

Of course, they'd both gone back to professional the next day, and never spoke of it again. But he still grins when he remembers the ways she made him shake.

"Come on, boy," Eliot gives Danny a little shove, "She ain't so bad. I'll walk with you."

There's silence, but Eliot assumes the boys is nodding, and sure enough, the path in front of him is finally clear.

.

.

Someone slips past him as Eliot enters Sophie's office, but they just mumble an apology and move along. Something tingles in the back of his brain, but he can't put his finger on it, so he pushes the thought aside for the moment.

"Have a seat, Mr. Spencer," Sophie greets, in her crisp accent.

Eliot just smirks.

"Come on, Sophie, we've known each other going on five years now, just call me Eliot."

He closes the door behind him in a practiced motion, before taking the seat in front of the desk. She's sitting there with her hands folded primly in front of her, he just knows it.

"Now, Mr. Spencer," she continues, ignoring his suggestion, "I asked you here because I got a visit from a very irate woman from the teacher's union, regarding you."

Eliot tilts his head in confusion. He hasn't spoken with the teacher's union anytime recently. He tells her so.

"I'm aware," Sophie replies, "Which is exactly the problem."

Eliot just waits for the explanation, tapping his walking stick lightly against his shoe in a familiar rhythm.

"It seems like you haven't taken any vacation or ill days in over three years, and the union believes that you're due to."

"I don't want to take time off," Eliot says, still slightly confused. He's pretty sure they can't make him take days off.

Sophie sighs, and he thinks maybe he's wrong.

"I know you don't, _Eliot_," she concedes, "But the union insists, and it's paid. So just take a week to yourself. Come back next Tuesday. Or later, if you want. You have a lot of leave saved up."

"Well," Eliot says, standing slowly, "I guess I'm on vacation."

Sophie moves to open the door for him, pausing to tuck his longish hair back behind his ear.

"Try to relax, Eliot," she says, sternly, but the tone can't disguise the genuine concern in her voice.

"Yeah, yeah," he murmurs, but he's smiling as he walks out the door.

.

.

"You ready, mama?"

Hardison walks into their bedroom, expecting to find Parker but finding an empty room instead. He's not worried just yet, after all, Parker does have a way of disappearing suddenly, only to reappear a moment later.

Which is exactly what she does.

"Just had to grab my gear," she replies as she seemingly appears behind him.

Hardison grins at her as they check off everything on their lists.

The sun is just beginning to rise, casting a pale light over the room. Parker grins up, back at him, and the way her hair shines in the light, he could swear she was an angel.

But she'd probably smack him for such sappy thoughts, so he keeps them to himself.

"The bank opens in an hour, don't you think we're cutting this a little close?" Hardison cant help but ask the perpetually unworried girl.

Parker just laughs for a moment, before finally responding.

"Forty-two seconds, that's all I need. You just make sure no guards, or cameras, see me."

Hardison gives her a look of faux disbelief, clutching his hand to his chest.

"You wound me! Girl, I can hack into the Pentagon... Kentucky Fried Savings doesn't stand a chance."

Parker laughs and motions for Hardison to come along, slipping her hand into his as they make their way out.

They've got a bank to rob.

.

.

"Vacation sucks."

Eliot's voice echoes around him as he speaks aloud into the spacey living room, and he sighs at the sound. It's not even nine in the morning and he's already bored out of his mind. An internal clock set for five A.M is a hard thing to shut off after ten years of teaching. As hard as he tried to sleep longer, his body simply wouldn't allow it. A shower, breakfast, workout, and another shower later, Eliot's bored. And lonely.

The house is too quiet. It gives him too much room to think.

With determination, he settles on the couch, shoving the headphones of his ipod into his ears. The new Koontz book is supposed to be amazing, and since he's been forced into vacation, he may as well try to enjoy it.

He's barely past the prologue when his traitor of a mind wanders, settling on a familiar topic. Aimee.

It's not all bad though, and he smiles a bit as he thinks back.

.

_'I bet she looks beautiful.'_

_The thought hits Eliot like a blow to his gut and it makes him literally catch his breath. It's his wedding day, and he can't even see his bride. _

_He's standing under the little canopy in her backyard, just the preacher next to him. No groomsmen, no bridesmaids, just them. _

_Aimee's standing there, down at the other end of the soft white mat someone's laid down and surrounded with flower petals. Eliot may not be able to see, but he knows exactly what she looks like. She's had her wedding planned out for years. Her dress is simple, just a flowing sheath that leaves her shoulders bare. It has little blue designs on the hem, but Eliot never could remember what they were supposed to be. Her strawberry blonde hair is pinned up in some elaborate way that he knows she'll pull down the second the pictures are done, but it makes her momma happy so she lets it be. _

_The music starts, shaking Eliot out of his thoughts, and he focuses all his attention on trying to set his eyes on her, instead of the random wandering they've taken to lately. _

_A few moments later and she's there, taking his hands in her own. Eliot breathes deeply, steadying himself. He knows this is crazy, knows they shouldn't be getting married at eighteen. But in this moment, where he should be terrified, he can only feel love. _

_The rest of the ceremony speeds by in a blur, and even though everything is all kinds of screwed up, he can't remember a time when he's been happier. _

_._

_._

The sound of a gunshot startles Eliot out of his daydreaming, and he's halfway up before he realizes the shot came from his headphones. Frowning, he realizes that he must have missed several chapters in the story while he was lost in his own head. Admitting defeat, he shuts down the ipod and tucks it back into his pocket.

His audio watch tells him it's just past noon, and Eliot wonders if it's too early to start drinking. A flash of anger immediately follows the thought. He finds himself growling in frustration to the empty room. He never used to be this self-pitying. Even back when he... right after the accident, he'd always been optimistic. He'd known that everything would be O.K in the end, had known he was lucky to even be alive.

Then again, so much of that optimism and reassurance had been because of Aimee. Aimee and her unwavering resolve to make sure he didn't end up some broken old recluse in his momma's spare room. They'd given it their best shot, and had lasted a lot longer than anyone had expected. Aimee never let him give up, even when he punched the wall so many times it was more holes than not, even when he drank himself into a stupor on a bad night and passed out on the kitchen floor. Not even when he screamed at her in a way he swore he never would, telling her he never loved her and he was better of without him.

She never believed him, not really, but when he'd fall to his knees, exhausted, and bury his face into her stomach, he could feel her tears falling. And he hated himself even more.

She put up with his drunk, angry, self until they both got their degrees. It wasn't until their momma's had started talking about grandbabies that everything fell apart.

.

.

"_Hey, baby," Eliot smiles and holds out his arms as Aimee comes into the kitchen. _

_His smile turns to a worried frown when she doesn't come and sit in his lap like usual. _

"_What's wrong?"_

_Silence. _

"_Aimee?"_

_She does move to sit in his lap then, and he wraps himself around her and hold her close. _

_But it feels off. _

"_Do you still love me, El?"_

_Eliot is stunned speechless, and looks up at her, knowing he's looking into her eyes, even if he can't see, with an expression she's never seen before. Something akin to disbelief, with a mix of pain and surprise, and maybe just a little resignation. _

_Aimee sighs, allowing herself to press her forehead to his for just a moment, closing her eyes to hold the feeling. _

"_I know you love me," she amends, "But are you in love with me anymore? Do you still want to be married to me?"_

"_Jesus, Aimee, where's this coming from? You know I do."_

_The silence stretches on, and Eliot can tell Aimee is struggling with how to say something. And then it clicks. _

"_But you don't." _

_His voice is oddly detached, as if he's reading out loud from a textbook. _

"_Elly," Aimee says, unsure of how to finish the thought. _

_Eliot turns his head, away from those eyes he can feel burning into his skin. _

"_You love me, but you aren't in love with me anymore, is that it?"_

_The sudden angry tone shouldn't surprise Aimee, but it does, and she's shocked when Eliot pulls his arms away from her and shoves his chair further back from the table. _

_She hops up and takes a step back. She's not scared of him, knows he'd never hurt her, but she doesn't want to risk standing in the wrong place at the wrong time._

"_El," she tries again, but stops short when he moves towards her. _

_Eliot's before her in an instant, those pale blue eyes locked onto hers in a way that would unnerve her even if he wasn't blind. He's breathing hard and his skin is flushed. He's almost trembling, but she doesn't dare reach out. She's never seen him look so angry. _

_But she holds her ground. _

"_I just," she whispers, giving in and cupping his face with one hand, "I just can't do this anymore. I love you, but I can't handle all this anger, all the time." _

_Her words stop Eliot's anger short, and his whole demeanor deflates. He leans into her touch, bringing his hand up to cover hers. _

"_I'll get better, baby, I swear." The plea is clear in his voice. _

_Aimee nods and pulls Eliot towards her, until they're wrapped around each other, and hugs him tight. _

"_You will," she agrees, "But not with me here, always protecting you." _

_Eliot doesn't speak, just drops his forehead onto her shoulder and holds on for as long as she lets him. _

_He knows she's right. _

_._

_._

The doorbell prevents Eliot from thinking about what came after that day, again. Ten years later, and it still feels like yesterday at times.

"Who is it?" he calls out when he reaches the door, but gets no response.

Shrugging, he opens the door, "Hello?"

He gets no response, but for a second he swears he sees a blur in front of him, but it's gone as fast as it appeared. Shaking his head, he sighs, knowing it's impossible.

Shutting the door, he decides it must have been some kids playing pranks.

Maybe it's time for that drink, after all.

.

.

"Damn, mama, we cleaned up!"

Parker looks up at Hardison from the bed, where she's carefully laying out the bills in a quasi-quilt.

"Did you ever doubt me?"

Hardison just rolls his eyes and moves to sit beside her before leaning over to kiss the patch of skin that's exposed between her neck and shoulder.

She stops playing with the money.

"You know what we've never done?" she asks, giving him the most innocent look she can muster.

Hardison grins and reaches for her shirt, grinning when she raises her arms obligingly.

"Had sex on a pile of stolen money?"

Parker lays back slowly, letting Hardison inch her tight black pants down bit by bit, trailing open mouth kisses as he moves. By the time he reaches her ankles, she's had enough and kicks the pant's aside urgently.

"You need to be more naked, _now_," she demands at Hardison's fully clothed body.

"My face is up here," Hardison teases, laughing at her scowl.

"But your penis is down here!" Parker insists, tracing said body part with her fingers.

Hardison groans, "You're lucky I love you, girl, because that? Is not sexy talk. I'm just sayin'."

Parker just laughs and wraps her legs up around his waist, pressing into him.

"You don't seem to mind."

Rolling his eyes, Hardison makes quick work of his shirt and pushes her legs away long enough to get rid of the rest of his clothing, before letting Parker pull him back down to her. Until he surrounds her and surrounds himself with her.

"I never said I did, baby, never said I did."

.

.

Hardison watches his little thief sleep the night away, wrapped up in sheets and hundred dollar bills. He knows she'll be gone when he wakes up, and won't tell him where she's been. Just like she has been for the past few weeks. But she always comes back, and most nights that's enough to stop him from worrying too much.

Parker shifts in her sleep, mouthing words without sound, limbs twitching slightly. Hardison looks on, worried, until she goes still the next moment, burrowing into her makeshift cocoon. Shaking his head, Hardison settles down beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist securely.

Parker murmurs in her sleep and Hardison tries very hard not to put too much thought in what he hears. Because the word she keeps repeating sounds a lot like another man's name.

"Eliot."

Hardison just squeezes her tighter, ignoring the way his chest tightens around his heart.

.

.

"Dammit, Sophie, vacation is boring! I'm going out of my mind here!"

Eliot can feel the principal roll her eyes through the phone.

"It's only another week, Mr. Spencer," she soothes, "You'll be fine."

"So we're back to Mr. Spencer now?" Eliot can't help but tease, "That's not what you were calling me when..."

"Eliot!" Sophie's voice drops to a harsh whisper, "This is a government line!"

Eliot just smirks, "I'm pretty sure it was a government rug that we..."

"That's enough!" Sophie sounds equal parts flustered and aggravated.

Eliot decides he rather likes it.

"Goodbye, Mr. Spencer," Sophie says, definitively, slamming the phone down with what Eliot considers unnecessary force.

Still chuckling, Eliot slips the phone back into the pocket of his sweatpants and heads down to the basement to punch out some of his boredom.

.

A half hour later, he stops to rest, sipping water and leaning onto the punching bag to catch his breath. Then he hears her.

"Might as well come on down," he says, to the general vicinity of the windowsill.

A light thump is his response.

"You ever gonna tell me who you are, or what you want?" Eliot asks, more amused than annoyed.

"My name is Parker," she says, and her voice is closer than he thought it would be.

Eliot reaches out, letting his fingers brush her arm for moment before pulling back and moving to stand beside the punching bag, instead of against it.

"Eliot," he says instead, giving her a half grin.

"I know who you are," she says, and then suddenly she's closer still, "Eliot Spencer, sixth grade history teacher. Lost your sight in a racing accident fifteen years ago. Married your high school sweetheart at eighteen, divorced five years later. Stopped sleeping together a few years after that. And if I'm not wrong," she pauses to smirk, "You had a fling with your principal fairly recently. But now you spend most of your time at work, or here, beating up that poor punching bag."

"How the fuck do you know all this?" Eliot demands, stepping forward and grabbing hold of Parker's arm.

Parker just looks down at his hand and shrugs, "Small town, they like to gossip." She pauses for a minute, trying to pull her arm away. "You're hurting me," she says, frowning more about not being able to pull free than the actual pain.

Eliot, however, loosens his grip immediately, not actually wanting to hurt the girl, but he still holds on.

"Why do you keep watching me?" Eliot asks, sliding his hand so it holds her wrist, keeping his thumb against her pulse point.

Parker actually laughs, surprising Eliot.

"Have you _seen_ you?"

He just raises an eyebrow at her.

"Oh," Parker says, "Right."

"It's been a long time since I've used a mirror," Eliot says, rubbing over the pulse that's speeding beneath his thumb.

Suddenly her hands are both free and she's running her fingertips down his arms lightly. It's when she traces across his chest that Eliot remembers he's shirtless, but he wills himself not to react.

Parker leans forward, bracing one hand on his shoulder and running the other through his hair, pulling away the blue bandana in the process.

"You're beautiful," she says, moving down to trace his jaw.

Eliot wants to protest. Wants to tell her that men aren't called beautiful. Wants to say that there's no way he looks or smells attractive after such a hard workout. But he can't. He's frozen by her touch.

Parker leans her face into his cheek and he feels her eyes close against his skin. She moves to loop her arms around his neck and whisper into his ear.

"I want to see the way that you do."

Eliot gulps, ignoring the voice that's screaming about how crazy this all is inside his head. He finally moves his frozen arms and wraps them around Parker, pulling her closer, until there's barely any space between them.

"C'mere," he demands, moving one hand up to thread through her hair as she turns into his kiss.

Neither move for a long moment, just holding on to each other and soaking in the feeling.

Finally, Parker's lips move against his, and he suppresses a grin when she bites at his lip insistently, but he lets her in, kissing back with as much fervor.

Parker murmurs against his lips and it takes him a minute to realize she's actually trying to say something.

"Hmm?"

"Bed." Parker says, pulling away to breathe, "Bed, now, please." She moves to lick a stripe up Eliot's neck and wrinkles his nose.

"Maybe a shower first."

Eliot gives her a slightly affronted look, she started this, after all. But Parker just laughs.

"I'll wash your back."

"Anyone ever tell you that you kinda suck at sex talk?" Eliot asks, but he's laughing.

Parker freezes momentarily, glad he can't see her conflicted expression. But she shakes herself out of it.

"It's been said," she replies, "Now which way to the shower?"

.

.

"_Come on, El, we've showered together plenty," Aimee insists to her sulking fiancee. _

_Eliot growls into his arms that are crossed against his chest. _

"_That was different!" he scowls, "It was fun. Now I cant even see what the fuck I'm doing. I can't even be trusted to shower by myself. How do you think that makes me feel?"_

"_You know it's just gonna take some time for you to get used to everything again, baby," Aimee soothes, "But until then, let me help you."_

_Eliot catches the tone in her voice and can't help but smile. _

"_Help me, huh?"_

_Aimee grins, "Only if you get your ass in gear and strip, cowboy." _

"_Yes, ma'am."_

_._

_._

Parker watches with amazement as Eliot expertly strips, starts the shower and climbs in, all without as much as stubbing his toe. He laughs when he realizes she hasn't moved from the doorway.

"You chickening out on me now, darlin'?"

Parker hums something unintelligible as she takes in the sight of water running down the tanned muscles of Eliot's entire body.

"What's that?" he asks, tilting his head momentarily away from the water.

"I'm good here, watching you. Just hurry."

Eliot chuckles and hurriedly washes up, finishing the shower in record time.

He steps out, only to be surrounded by Parker, who's rubbing a soft towel over every part of him she can reach.

And he does mean every part.

"Easy, sweetheart, we need that attached for this to be any fun."

Parker stops instantly.

"Dry enough, come on."

Eliot leads the way, following the familiar path to his bedroom. He pauses in the doorway, thinking twice about the whole crazy thing. He doesn't know anything about this girl, yet she knows everything about him. He's leading who could very well be a psychotic murderer into his bed, with hardly any reservations.

"Why are we stopping?" Parker asks, moving to press into his back and wrap her arms around his waist; fingers just inches from where he wants them.

And just like that, any remaining reservations are gone.

"We're not."

.

.

"Relax," Parker breathes against Eliot's neck as she crawls above him, "Stay still."

She settles a knee on each side of his waist, holding herself barely above his skin.

"Dammit, Parker, please..." Eliot trails, not caring what she does, as long as she does _something_.

"Relax," she says again, moving up to kiss him. He leans up into it and blinks against a sudden flash across his vision.

He shakes his head again, he must be imagining it. Again. The darkness returns in the next instant and he pushes the thoughts back. Again.

She starts at his eyes, brushing her fingertips over them until they fall closed, and she flutters over the dark lashes there, following her fingertips with a soft press of her lips.

Eliot hums, content, as Parker continues her exploration.

He feels her fingers begin to drift over him, starting at his cheekbones, sliding down his jaw, pausing to run a thumb over his open mouth. He catches it with his lips, but she pulls away, continuing her trail down his body.

He might whimper a little when she presses her palms into his shoulders before stroking down both of his arms, leaning forward in the process, pressing her heated skin against his.

She pulls away, leaving Eliot nearly writhing beneath her. But she's stronger than he expects, and she holds him still with powerful thighs. She slides down some more, trailing her fingers down his muscled chest and over his slim waist, pausing to slide her fingers dangerously close, only to pull back and move down his thighs and calves, finally finishing as she runs her fingertips over Eliot's feet.

She laughs when they twitch in response.

"Ticklish?" she asks.

Eliot just groans, "Not the time, sweetheart, please."

Parker smirks and moves back up to hover above him, leaning down to kiss the base of his throat.

"Wanna bite my way down now."

It sounds like a damn good plan to Parker, but apparently Eliot has other plans because the next thing thing she knows, he's hovering above her and she's somehow on her back, beneath him. She looks up to see an incredibly dirty grin on his face, but she can't seem to mind.

"I only have so much patience, darlin'," Eliot whispers into her ear, a near growling sound, "How's about we move things along?"

Parker grins and hooks one leg over his shoulder, wrapping the other around his waist, urging him forward.

Eliot chuckles low, "I should've know you'd be bendy."

Parker just laughs again, then proceeds to show Eliot exactly how bendy she can be.

.

.

The sun has long set by the time they wake up, and Parker sits up with a start, squinting until the fuzzy numbers on the alarm clock reveal the time.

"Stay," Eliot mumbles sleepily, reaching out to pull at the sheet that surrounds the girl.

"It's eight-thirty," Parker says, sounding more perturbed than Eliot suspects she should.

Eliot sighs, but stays where he is, one hand still gripping the sheet that's pooled around her waist.

"Your husband waiting up for you?"

"I'm not married."

He doesn't miss her tone, or her hesitation before the answer.

"But there's somebody waiting for you."

It's not a question, but Parker answers anyway.

"He loves me." She pauses and pulls her knees up, resting her face on them as she turns her head to look at Eliot, sadly. "He loves me so much."

"And you?"

Parker sighs and Eliot can't help but reach out until he's holding her hand, soothing circles with thumb.

"I don't deserve him," she finally replies.

She isn't crying, in fact her voice sounds oddly hollow, and the lack of emotion in it hits Eliot in the gut like a physical blow.

He knows the sound too well.

"Then why do you stay with him?"

It's silent for a moment but then he feels her laying back down, until she's turned towards him, still letting him hold her hand, it rests between them.

"Why does your ex-wife visit you every Sunday?"

Eliot has no good answer for that and no good way to explain it, but he can't help the words that tumble from his lips.

"She takes care of me. Always has. I don't... I don't know..."

"Don't know how to be alone," Parker finishes for him, "Yeah, me either."

Eliot nods.

"All we do is hurt them."

If Parker agrees, she says nothing, just pulls the covers up and tries to block out the world. But a moment later, when Eliot moves hold her close, she lets him.

.

.

When Parker gets home the next morning, she half expects Hardison to be gone, or to see her stuff packed neatly at the door, ready for her inevitable banishment. Instead, she finds her hacker fast asleep. Choking back the sob she'd never admit to having, she strips down and crawls into bed beside him, trying to get comfortable.

But it feels wrong.

"Hey, baby," Hardison says, only half awake.

Parker doesn't speak, she just places a kiss to the shoulder she's resting on.

"I was thinking," he says, more awake now, "Maybe it's time to move on. We've hit every bank in the area. This town is pretty dull."

Parker's eyes shoot open in alarm, but he doesn't see them through his still closed eyes.

She pauses for a long moment, mind racing.

"Let's stay until Sunday. I kinda like it here."

Hardison sighs, and the sound makes her heart ache. She's sure he knows. But then he just nods.

"Alright, mama, we'll stay till Sunday. Then we'll get the hell out of Kentucky."

Parker tries to keep her tone light, "Where do you wanna go next?"

"I hear Louisiana is nice," Hardison says, but he's already yawning again.

Parker crinkles her nose is thought, "Isn't that with all the gators?"

"There aren't any banks surrounded by gators, baby, now go to sleep." He's laughing, but she knows there's no malice behind it.

Parker stays still, but doesn't sleep.

.

.

"I'm leaving Sunday," Parker announces as she lands beside Eliot on his couch.

He just shakes his head. He knows he locked the door. But he puts down the guitar he's been tuning and turns to her.

"Sunday, as in four days from now?"

Parker nods, then sighs when she realizes what she's doing.

"Yes. This Sunday."

Eliot smiles, a little sadly, and tugs her hand until she moves closer, curling up beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"I'll miss you."

Parker looks up, startled.

"You don't even know me," she says, "I broke into your house, repeatedly, and then we had sex."

Eliot shrugs, "I'll still miss you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he confirms, "It's nice when you're here."

"I don't like this," Parker declares, and he can practically hear the pout in her voice.

It makes him feel strangely better about the whole thing.

"Don't like what, babygirl?"

He's not expecting Parker to jerk away suddenly, but she does.

"Don't call me that."

After a tense moment, she settles back against him and he moves to press a kiss to her temple.

"Alright. I won't say it again."

Parker nods, and he hears the unspoken 'thank you' loud and clear.

Eliot decides that if she's leaving anyway, he needs to know the truth.

"What are you doing here? In this town, I mean. You sure as hell ain't from Kentucky."

"I'm a thief."

Eliot laughs, "Come on, seriously, what are you doing here?"

"I don't joke about stealing," Parker says solemnly.

Eliot's laughter stops short. "You're serious?"

"I'm a thief," Parker says, again.

"But..." Eliot trails, not really sure where to begin.

"Don't worry," Parker shrugs, "I rob banks, not history teachers. Unless a history teacher happens to own a bank, and really, how likely is that?"

"I..you... seriously? You're a thief? That's your job?"

"Not only am I a thief," Parker grins, moving to straddle Eliot's thighs, "I'm the best damn thief this side of the Atlantic. I've never been caught, not even once."

Eliot's brain is still trying to process the information, but his hands are moving of their own accord, sliding around Parker's waist and slipping under the hem of her shirt.

"How do you know I won't call the cops?" he asks, even as she's unbuttoning his shirt, "I've heard about the robberies, you know. There's even a pretty big reward for any information that could help them find you."

Parker just laughs, "You won't. And even if you did, I'd be long gone before they ever found me."

Eliot smirks, "You're that good?"

He catches his breath when her skilled hands pop open his jeans with one motion. Parker leans in to whisper.

"I told you, I'm the best."

.

.

Hardison knows he shouldn't be following Parker, but he can't help it, he has to know. She disappears into a little blue house on the corner of backwoods and redneck, as far as he's concerned, and he almost doesn't follow. Doesn't want to know. But he has to.

The back door is made of glass, with the shade pulled up. It leads to the kitchen, but he doesn't dare try to go in.

Turns out, he doesn't have to.

The door gives a direct view through the kitchen and into the livingroom. More specifically, to the couch in the livingroom, where Parker's busy riding some long haired asshole with too much jewelry.

He's frozen with anger, just watching in shock, until they stop moving. He looks on as the asshole cups Parker's face and pulls her down for a kiss. She goes willingly, and pulls back smiling widely.

She looks so damn happy that it drains Hardison of his anger, leaving only a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, mixed with sadness.

He pulls back, acutely aware that it's broad daylight out, and that anyone could see him standing there, lurking.

But he still wants nothing more than to smash through the glass and kick the shit out of the bastard who's with the girl he loves.

He doesn't go through with it, though. Instead, he walks away, refusing to look back.

.

.

"I need to go," Parker says, much later.

They're curled up together on Eliot's bed, just enjoying the warmth of the sun on their sheet-clad bodies.

Eliot nods, but doesn't move, "You'll come back tomorrow?"

"Only if you promise to make me that stirfry again," Parker replies, but they both know it's a hollow threat.

She'll be there.

"I promise," Eliot says, stroking her hair absently.

"Good," Parker says, and it's supposed to be the end, but she can't make herself move just yet.

"Where'd you learn to cook anyway?" she asks, instead of moving.

Eliot smiles fondly, "My momma taught me, right after the accident. Said no son of hers was gonna be helpless just because he couldn't see."

"She sounds nice," Parker says, with a tightness to her voice that Eliot doesn't miss, but doesn't comment on either.

"She's insane," he says instead, "But she's my momma."

"What about your dad?" Parker asks, genuinely curious.

"He died," Eliot says, with a too-calm voice, "A long time ago."

"I'm sorry," Parker says, absently, because she knows that's what you're supposed to say when somebody's parent dies. It's what she heard a million times after the fire.

"How about you?" Eliot asks, not able to see Parker's troubled expression. "Where are your parents?"

Parker swallows hard before she answers, and considers lying, but the truth comes out before she can help it.

"They died when I was little. My brother too."

"Jesus, honey, I'm sorry," Eliot says, pulling her tighter to him, "I didn't know."

"Why would you?" she shrugs, "I don't remember them much, I was only six. I was at a sleepover when the house caught fire."

Her voice catches as she recalls the night Sally's mom had woken her up, crying.

"Poor lady had no idea how to tell me that my entire family was dead. She just kept crying and hugging me until the police got there to take me away."

"Jesus," Eliot repeats, unsure of what else to say.

"It's ok," Parker insists, "It was twenty years ago, I barely remember them anymore."

"Darlin'..." Eliot trails off, because he knows there's nothing he can say.

"I really have to go," Parker says, as she moves to get up.

Eliot sits up, pulling her towards him.

"One more kiss," he says, smiling when she leans into his request.

His eyes close out of habit, but when he opens them, he sees that flash again, but it's brighter this time. He can't be sure, but it almost looks like a face, for just a moment.

"What is it?" Parker asks, noting the confused look on his face.

Eliot answers slowly, thinking as he goes, "I don't know," he tells her honestly, "I think I might be... seeing things."

Parker frowns, "Like.. hallucinations?"

"No," Eliot shakes his head, "Like actual things. As in, actually seeing. But it's just flashes now and again."

Parker waves her fingers in front of his eyes, "Can you see that?"

"No," Eliot grumbles, "But stop waving your hand in my face."

"Did they ever tell you might see again?" she asks, ignoring his annoyance.

Eliot closes his eyes, thinking back.

"The doctor told me that it was 'unusual but not unheard of' for the type of head trauma I was dealing with."

"So, there is a chance it's really happening?" Parker asks, and God, Eliot wishes he could see the smile he knows is plastered across her face.

"Maybe, I don't know," he shrugs again, "I don't want to get my hopes up. It's been fifteen years since I've been able to see, I don't want to go through that all over again."

There's silence, but he knows she's nodding.

"Go on," he tells her, "I'll be here tomorrow."

"So will I," Parker promises, before finally reaching for her clothes and making her way out.

He doesn't hear her leave, but then, he never does.

.

.

When Parker doesn't show up the next day, Eliot is worried. More importantly, he realizes that he has no way of getting in contact with her. He knows nothing about her, outside of the strange world they've created in less than two week's time.

So he waits.

She never comes.

.

Sunday rolls around, and Eliot wakes up to Aimee calling his name. He sighs, pushing down the wish that it was Parker calling for him, and sits up. He opens his eyes and cries out against the sudden shooting pain in his skull.

"El?" Aimee calls out, running up the stairs.

She find him clutching his hands over his eyes, rocking slightly.

"What happened? El? Talk to me, baby, come on."

Eliot looks up, moving his hands slowly, squinting against the harsh light.

"I think..." he says, carefully, "I think I can see you."

He hears Aimee's gasp of shock, but it's distant noise as the world begins to come into focus. Where there used to be darkness is now a blinding blur of colors.

He wants to cry, he'd nearly forgotten about colors.

And suddenly, he can see her.

Not perfectly of course, and it's more blur and brightness than anything, but he can see her.

"You're beautiful," Eliot says, and Aimee just stops.

She drops to the bed in front of him, raising her hands to her mouth in shock.

"You can really see me?"

Tears are running down her face and the fact that he can see them makes Eliot want to cry himself, but he holds himself together, just barely.

"I really can. Not completely, and it hurts, a lot, but I can see you. You changed your hair."

Aimee chokes on a sob as she laughs.

"It's been fifteen years, Elly, I've changed my hair a lot."

"You were always my Aimee," Eliot says, tapping at his temple, "In here. You were the only thing I could always see clearly."

"I've changed," Aimee shrugs, "We grew up."

"You're still as pretty as I remember," Eliot says, ducking his head at his own cheesiness.

But Aimee just laughs, before hopping up, "Oh! We need to get you to the doctor. They're gonna want to run tests and make notes, and do whatever it is that they actually do. And oh! You have to call your momma. She's gonna cry so much. Oh! And.."

"Aimee!" Eliot laughs, "Slow down. I'll do all that, I promise. But right now I just wanna look."

Aimee breathes, "Look at what?"

Eliot grins.

"Everything."

.

.

A Few Months Later

"Mr. Spencer!" Trina cries from the back of the room, "Kevin's throwing things at me again!"

Eliot laughs, looking at the pouting dread-locked girl with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

"I told you," he replies, "That just means he likes you."

"Do not!" Kevin objects, from the other side of the room.

"Anyway," Eliot interrupts the middle school drama, "It's Friday, and the bell's about to ring, and as far as I'm concerned, it's a good day. So, no homework this weekend."

The class cheers, but he's not finished.

"Just have fun, and be safe. I'll see you all on Monday."

The bell rings, and the kids dart out as usual, all besides Nellie, who comes to stand in front of his desk. He smiles at the girl, grateful for finally being able to see his students, for being able to place faces with voices, for being able to read the expressions on their faces.

"What's up, Nellie?" he asks the girl.

She doesn't say anything for a moment, but then throws her arms around his middle, squeezing him in a tight hug. Eliot laughs and gives her a quick pat on the head, trying not to get his hand caught in those crazy blond curls that can't be tamed.

"I'm glad you can see again, Mr. Spencer," she says as she pulls away.

"Me too, Nellie," Eliot smiles, "No go on, your momma's waiting for you." He gives her a little push towards the door.

Nellie looks over in confusion and then back to Eliot.

"That's not my momma."

"Then..." Eliot begins, but Nellie's already gone.

.

.

"Can I help you?" Eliot asks the blonde woman that's standing in his doorway.

She doesn't say anything, just steps into the room slowly, staring at him in a way that unnerves Eliot more than he cares to admit.

Finally she speaks.

"You have glasses. I didn't believe it when they said you could see again, but I had to come find out. I wasn't expecting glasses."

Eliot catches his breath. He knows that voice.

"Parker?"

She nods and moves closer, unable to resist touching him. She's barely brushed Eliot's arm when she finds herself crushed against him in a tight hug.

She can only hug back just as tightly.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she confesses, "Hardison, my... boyfriend, he saw us. And he took off. Left me half the money and the car and just took off. There was a note, but I tore it up before I even read the whole thing. I just.. didn't know what to do. So I ran."

"Where'd you go?" Eliot murmurs, even though he doesn't care. He doesn't care about much else besides the fact that Parker is here, with him.

"I went home," she says, quietly, "Well, back to my hometown. Tried to get a real job and be normal. I just wanted to be normal."

Eliot pulls back, laughing kindly, and brushes her hair from her face, "How'd that work out?"

Parker scowls, "Shut up." But she's already smiling again.

"What now?" Eliot asks, even though it doesn't matter, as long as she stays.

"Now," Parker says, leaning up, "You kiss me." She pauses as he obliges. "And then we get the hell out of here and have a ton of ridiculously awesome sex. And then you make me breakfast."

Eliot laughs so hard it actually hurts, but he doesn't mind, "You've got it all planned out, don't you?"

Parker nods, solemnly, "Yes. You and me, sex, sleep, breakfast."

"Until what?" Eliot laughs, "Until we pass out from exhaustion and can't move for a week?"

"No," Parker smiles, and dammit if it's not the most beautiful thing Eliot's ever seen. "Until we die, jerk."

Eliot tries to smirk but he can't help the happy grin that takes over his face.

"I love you, too."

.

.

THE END.


End file.
